


The Biggest Mistake

by SailorChibi



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Age Play, Baby Tony, Bathing, Brainwashing, Carrying, Cribs, Diapers, Forced Wetting, Forced infantilism, Gen, Infantilism, Infinity Stones, Kidnapping, Muscle control, Non consensual age play, Onesies, Pacifiers, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Stockholm Syndrome, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, daddy thanos, dubious consent age play, dubious consent infantilism, forced age play, just warning you now, non consensual infantilism, non sexual age play, non sexual infantilism, thanos is a bit crazy, thumbsucking, use of infinity stones, will not end with a rescue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-07-15 09:17:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16060100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SailorChibi/pseuds/SailorChibi
Summary: Thanos was intrigued by Tony Stark. Intrigued enough to steal Tony away and make him into something...more. Too bad Tony doesn't get a say in his new life.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I answered an ask that wanted to know about Daddy Thanos. Next thing I know, someone commissioned me and here we are.

The biggest mistake he’d made, Tony thought later, was that he and Nebula didn’t pick up and leave Titan immediately.

It was just… after Strange and the Guardians faded away, and Tony was left holding an armful of Peter’s ashes, he couldn’t bring himself to do anything. The world went faded and fuzzy at the edges and Tony forgot how to breathe. He curled up, clutching his left arm, and stared vacantly at the spot where Peter Parker had died. It didn’t seem right that there was nothing on the unmarked ground to say that a tragedy had happened there.

He was barely aware of Nebula prowling around somewhere, but he lacked the focus to pay her much attention. Too caught up in the beginnings of a grief so profound and deep that Tony was sinking beneath it, he didn’t even hear what she was saying to him. His mind was focused on the utter _fear_ that had been on Peter’s face; the wind seemed to bring the sweet sound of Peter’s last words to his ears.

_”I don’t feel so good… I don’t know what’s happening. Please, I don’t wanna go.. I don’t wanna go… I’m sorry…”_

And, like a flickering candle, other faces flamed to life before his eyes: Pepper, Rhodey, Happy, Bruce, May Parker, Steve, Natasha, Clint, the Barton children, Fury. Stark Industries employees. His favorite barista. The new P.A. Pepper had hired for him. All of them wearing an expression of fear just like Peter. All of them disintegrating into ashes that blew away on an uncaring wind. Each of them lost to the ages because Tony _wasn’t good enough_.

His chest squeezed, the tight, familiar feeling making him tense. Logically he knew that sitting curled up wasn’t the right way to handle a panic attack. He should be straightening his shoulders, opening his chest up, and taking slow, deep breaths. But he couldn’t move. It was like his body had locked up and all thought was beyond him. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t think.

Nebula screamed.

Tony’s head jerked up. His eyes saw Thanos, but he didn’t really accept it. What reason would there be for Thanos to come back? He’d won. He’d taken what he needed from them. Tony had nothing of worth. He was just an old man stuck in space, trying not to have a complete breakdown while slowly bleeding to death. Nothing special to see here.

“Stop,” Thanos rumbled, gesturing to Nebula. Her mouth hung open but the sound of her screaming was abruptly silenced. She recoiled, eyes widening in horror, and scrabbled at her throat. Her lips moved but no sound came out. Fury spread across his face and she grabbed for a weapon.

Thanos sighed. It was an intensely weary sound. A twitch of his fingers dissolved Nebula’s weapon; she collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut. Tony stiffened, expecting her to dissolve into nothingness, but she didn’t. He stared at her face. Her eyes were shut. She’d landed on her stomach, crumpled up into a small heap, so he couldn’t tell whether she was breathing or not.

“This is the problem when you allow trash to fester,” Thanos said. “I’m disappointed she was not part of the purge.” He surveyed Nebula with a look of utmost disappointment, much like a parent would look at a misbehaving child, then turned away. In five long strides, he was standing right in front of Tony.

He should be stabbed. That was the thought hovering through Tony’s mind. But instead of the fierce determination and desire to protect the world that had driven him before, Tony felt… empty. He slowly tilted his head up to look at Thanos, meeting the dark eyes. Last time they’d been this close, Thanos had stabbed him. This time, Tony wondered if he was going to die.

“Tony Stark,” Thanos murmured, rolling the name around on his lips. His eyes seemed to glow.

Tony couldn’t speak. He just watched.

“I know you,” Thanos said at last. He held up the gauntlet and Tony’s eyes were drawn to the glitter of the Stones. They were strangely pretty, each one intermittently glistening with color. He barely noticed the rest of the world smearing into grey cloudiness.

When Tony woke, he could breathe again. That in itself was surprising, considering that he hadn’t thought he would _ever_ wake up again. Staring up into darkness, he wondered if he was dead. Was this what hell was like? Just an endless void with nothing but his own thoughts for company? Nothing but the memories of all the people he’d failed…

He stuck his hands out automatically, trying to feel something, and jumped when his fingers made contact with bars. Was he in jail? Cautiously, Tony moved his hands higher. When he didn’t come into contact with a ceiling, he took a chance and sat up. He stretched his hands up, but continued to encounter nothing. When he put his hands out to either side, he found bars on both sides. If he was in a jail cell, it was either very small or very narrow. He couldn’t even stretch his arms out fully.

Curious, he pushed on the bars – gently at first, then with more strength. They didn’t give away beneath his weight, so they had to be connected to something. He pinged one with a fingernail and realized it was made of wood. Not what he would’ve expected for a cell, but maybe metal had been a limited commodity in Thanos’s world.

Thanos. Tony shuddered, realizing that he was most likely somewhere on Thanos’s ship. Why was he here? What had made Thanos come back for him? All he’d said before knocking Tony out was ‘I know you’. What did that even mean? Was there a reason that Thanos had brought him here, or did he just want to get Tony out of the way? Was he going to die of thirst or starve to death?

His fingers tightened around the bars as his breathing quickened. He forced himself to calm, because now wasn’t the time to lose it. He had to keep his wits about him if he wanted to try and find a way to escape. There would be no one coming to rescue him, he knew, because no one on Earth would even know that he hadn’t disintegrated. Nebula was the only person who knew he’d survived, and Tony didn’t know whether she was alive – and if she was, it was unlikely she would head for Earth to tell them that Tony had made it.

So he was on his own. Again. Naturally. Tony closed his eyes against the darkness, centering himself. He didn’t like the dark; it reminded him too much of cold nights in dark caves, and he’d grown used to the light of the arc reactor besides. He touched his chest, but the reactor was gone. That meant his access to the suit, and to FRIDAY, was also cut off.

His shirt was different.

Tony blinked, looking down automatically. Of course, he couldn’t see anything. He rubbed his fingers across the shirt. It was a much softer material than the jogging suit he’d been wearing before this all began. He belatedly realized, as his fingers continued to explore, that it wasn’t a shirt at all, but a one piece. There was no break between the top and the bottom. It even covered his bare toes, and the sleeves were long enough to drape over his palms.

Okay. So. Thanos had changed his clothing. That was a thing that Thanos had done. How creepy. But Tony supposed he should be grateful that he wasn’t naked right now. He cringed at the thought and immediately banished it from his brain. He was not going to let himself go down that road.

Instead, he wrapped both hands around the bars again and slowly pulled himself to his feet. In the process, he realized two things. One, he wasn’t wounded anymore. The stab wound, not to mention all the scratches and bruises he’d obtained, were gone. He could move without pain. And, while he couldn’t see the wound, he pressed a hand over the material to that spot and felt nothing but smooth, unblemished skin.

Two, he was wearing some kind of weird underwear. He hadn’t noticed it while sitting, but it was impossible to ignore while standing. It was thick enough that his stance was unnaturally widened, and made of plastic. Tony traced it with his fingers, feeling the way the waistband sat directly under his belly button, and across what felt like straps at the side. His eyes widened as a picture formed in his head and he shook his head. This couldn’t be what he thought it was. He couldn’t be wearing a diaper underneath what was undeniably a onesie.

“What the fuck,” he mouthed to himself; he didn’t dare speak for fear that might tell Thanos he was awake.

Suddenly, he was overcome by a frantic wave of fear and shame. This wasn’t happening. He grabbed at the collar of the onesie and tried to find the zipper. But no matter how many times his shaking fingers explored the onesie’s collar, he couldn’t find a zipper or a button. His shoulders were too broad to fit through the neckline. There had to be some way out because Thanos had, presumably, put it on, but damned if Tony could find it. He even resorted to grabbing the material between his fingers and trying to rip it, but it was too well-made. His fingers slipped and he couldn’t get a good enough hold.

He slumped to the bed in the end, momentarily overwhelmed by fatigue, and buried his face in his hands. He just didn’t understand what was going on.

It was tempting to just give up. But then he thought about Rhodey and Pepper. He didn’t know whether they’d made it out alive, but if they had they would be worried about him. They’d be devastated if he didn’t come back. He owed it to his best friends to do whatever he could to get out of here. The last thing he wanted to do was put them through another Afghanistan.

Maybe he could get out of this cell. That would be a start. He couldn’t focus on his clothing for now. He stood again, using the bars for balance. The floor was weirdly squishy, like a mattress, and hard to stand on. Tony stretched a hand up and felt a thrill when he encountered the top. It was high, but he’d had worse. He jumped, grabbing the bars over his head. His feet slid uselessly against the bars, the material too soft to gain any traction, so he was forced to haul himself up by hands alone.

Good thing Thanos had healed the stab wound, Tony thought wryly, hauling himself up a few inches. It was just enough for him to be able to get his left leg over top of the bars. Then he had to pull his body _up_ , swinging his center of gravity directly over the bars. It left him a little out of breath but he managed, sitting atop the bars and surveying the void around him. 

Much as he’d never admit it, he was a little reluctant to climb down. It was just _so dark_. Who knew what was waiting for him? 

But sitting here wasn’t going to solve problems. So he let one foot drop and then the other, slowly easing his weight down. He was relieved to find the floor, though it was a more severe drop than he’d expected. The cell must have been several inches off the floor. The data all combined in Tony’s head to present the obvious conclusion: he’d been sleeping in a crib, not a jail cell. 

What the fuck. What the _fuck_. Tony was getting angry now, bypassing shame and settling firmly on watching to punch Thanos in the face. Or maybe throw a moon at him, see how he liked it.

“I should have guessed you would be a troublemaker.”

The voice made Tony jump. Instantly, he dropped to his knees and rolled to his left under the crib. It wouldn’t afford much protection, but it was something. He hid his eyes as the room began to brighten, though not to the point where it was painful. Just enough for him to make out Thanos, seated in a chair about a dozen feet away. Had he been watching this whole time?

Thanos walked over. Tony froze and didn’t move. He held his breath as Thanos knelt on one knee, bending forward to look in at him. His expression was blank, as though he did this every day, and Tony didn’t know – maybe he did. He jerked backwards instinctively, curling in on himself, feeling terribly naked without the arc reactor or the suit. Thanos just smiled at him, the kind of condescending smile, Tony was uncomfortably aware, that an adult might give a child when they were being silly.

“We’ll train that out of you.”


	2. Chapter 2

Tony punched him. It was stupid and instinctual; he couldn’t help himself. Thanos reared back, more surprised than hurt, and Tony took the opportunity to scootch out from under the crib on the opposite side and run. Not even the pitch black darkness was as terrifying as what laid behind him. His feet pounded the floor and his ears filled with the sound of his own terrified breathing as he ran.

There had to be a way out. Thanos had gotten in, so there had to be a way out. He refused to let himself think about the fact that Thanos could manipulate reality itself with the Gauntlet, which meant that he could’ve easily created a place where Tony was trapped. He wouldn’t accept that. He was Tony Stark, goddamnit, and he was not going to give up without a fight.

“Stark.”

Thanos’s voice seemed to echo, as though the room they were in were big enough to trap and reflect sound. It came from all directions, surrounding him until he wanted to sink to his knees and scream just to block it out. Instead, Tony looked around uselessly, eyes squinting in the hopes of seeing _something_. It was hard to know how to protect himself, or which direction he should take, when he couldn’t even figure out where Thanos was. Maybe he was running towards Thanos now. 

The thought was a chilling one and he stopped so suddenly that he slipped, the soft, fuzzy soles of the onesie making him lose his balance. He went down hard on his hands and knees. Tempting though it was to jump back up and keep running, Tony forced himself to stay still. With considerable effort, he forced himself to breathe more quietly. It was quiet now, and his ears strained to hear anything.

“Stark,” Thanos repeated. Tony jumped in spite of himself.

“What the hell do you want?” he yelled. “What kind of sick game is this?”

“I know you.”

It was the same thing he’d said before, but it made no more sense now than it had before. “What does that even mean?” Tony demanded.

“I saw your past. I looked into your future. You’re a warrior, like my sweet Gamora,” said Thanos.

Tony’s eyebrows furrowed. Gamora? He still wasn’t wholly sure who that was, but it would’ve been impossible to miss Quill’s freak out over her death. Whoever she was, she’d been important to the Guardians and to Thanos. Was being compared to her a good thing? Considering that Tony was sitting here in a onesie, he was going to go with no. Yet he wasn’t stupid enough to insult her, either. Thanos held too many cards here to rile him up needlessly. Tony needed to be smart about this.

“If you want Gamora back, you could use the Gauntlet,” Tony said. “No need to keep me here.”

“That’s not possible,” Thanos said, which seemed weird – the Gauntlet could do anything as far as Tony knew, but maybe there were limits no one had run into before. No one except for Thanos. Tony shuddered, wrapping his arms around himself.

“What do you want with me?” he said, keeping his voice calm with considerable effort. He’d never been so thankful for his years of media training, which helped to keep him from fully losing it.

“I will not repeat my past mistakes,” said Thanos slowly. “I have warriors to fight for me. Children should be cared for.”

Tony stiffened at that, trying to not to pant with panic. “That’s great, but I’m not a child. So I don’t see how this applies to me.”

“But you are.” Thanos sounded close. Too close. Tony whirled around and stumbled back a step when he saw Thanos standing right behind him, less than ten feet away. It was much too close for comfort. He wanted to run, but where? What direction?

“I’m really not, no matter what Pepper says,” Tony said.

Thanos cocked his head, perhaps wondering who Pepper was – or perhaps figuring out the best way to kill him. Either way, Thanos said, “Children are not warriors, and you are a child. I am well over two thousand years old in Midgard’s terms. Surely, you can appreciate how you are a child to me.”

Two thousand years old. Good lord. Tony edged back another step. He was pretty sure this guy had Loki and Thor beat. No wonder they’d had such a difficult time battling him. Thanos had been around the block. He dropped his gaze from Thanos’s face to the Infinity Gauntlet. If he could only get that off Thanos somehow, then he could use it to restore order to the universe. But how? He, Peter, the Guardians and Strange had just barely managed to subdue Thanos working together, and right now he didn’t even have the suit.

Peter. His stomach clenched at the thought of the kid. That was a mistake. He tried to push Peter’s terrified face from his mind, but couldn’t. So he glared at Thanos instead, trying to channel the grief into something more productive like pure rage. It burned through him, pushing aside the fear and giving him the courage to stand straight and speak firmly.

“You’re right, children aren’t warriors. And they shouldn’t be killed like warriors, either. You killed at least one today.” Was it today? How long had he been here? “Probably thousands more. How does that compare to your philosophy that children should be cared for?”

“The balancing of the universe was necessary for survival. I am sorry you lost your child,” Thanos said. “It was not a conscious decision to add more loss to your life.”

“Is that supposed to make it better?” Tony burst out, incredulous. “Is that – oh my god - _fuck you_!” He could barely breathe through the anger. He didn’t think he’d ever known anyone capable of such casual cruelty. Thanos was, at the very least, a legitimate psychopath. He had no remorse over the fact that he’d just murdered millions of living creatures. So long as he could justify it to himself, and somehow he could, he just… didn’t care. It was as staggering as it was alarming, because Tony finally realized that there would be no making Thanos see sense. 

“I have added to your pain,” Thanos said, frowning. “That was not my intention. Let me care for you.”

Tony physically recoiled, turning to run again. But he didn’t get more than a step or two before his legs gave out from beneath him. He landed hard on the floor, the impact of the fall knocking all of the breath out of him. He found himself gasping, stunned from the force of it, but there was no time to waste. He pushed himself up, got his legs under him again, and started to run.

Or at least, that’s what he told his brain to do. In reality, the muscles in his legs twitched weakly. Tony rolled over, and even that was a struggle. His arms felt as weak as they did after he’d wailed on a punching bag for several hours, or spent too long in the gym. Except there was no pleasant burn, or even the ache of muscles pushed too hard in too short a time. 

He tried to lift a hand. His fingers flexed; it took an incredible amount of focus and strength to even turn his hand over so that his palm was flat against the ground. Forget trying to move his legs. He could wiggle his toes, so at least he knew that impulses and nerves were still functioning. He wasn’t paralyzed, which was the first terrifying thought that had gone through his mind. It was just that his legs felt like they weighed several pounds, and he just didn’t have the strength necessary to make them move the way he desperately needed them to.

“What the hell did you do to me?” he screamed, or he tried to. His throat wasn’t functioning properly either. What came out was a string of unintelligible babbling. 

Thanos’s face came into view. So did the Gauntlet. Tony’s eyes focused on the latter because it was impossible to miss the tell-tale red shimmer of the Reality Stone. Thanos had done something to him, he realized with a jolt of fresh horror. He watched as the red light of the Stone slowly died away, leaving them cast in darkness again. Thanos lowered his arm.

“I can’t trust you not to run away, or not to hurt yourself. You are a child and you will be treated like one. Perhaps, given time, I will allow you to grow up,” Thanos told him. He sounded thoughtful. “But that will come with time, and trust.” He reached down with a huge hand and took Tony’s hand, looking it over. Tony followed his gaze, mostly because he couldn’t do anything else, and saw that the skin over his knuckles was split and bleeding. Belatedly, he realized that he was probably lucky he hadn’t broken his hand. 

“You can earn my trust,” Thanos added, as though answering a question that Tony hadn’t asked. 

Tony bared his teeth and hissed because that was the only thing he could do. He had zero desire to learn what he’d have to do to earn Thanos’s trust. Fortunately, that seemed to derail whatever Thanos was going to say next. In the end, Tony almost wished he hadn’t done that. He would’ve rather listened to Thanos talk than what happened next, which was that Thanos leaned down and effortlessly picked Tony up with just one hand.

It was a scary feeling to have your legs hang limply in the air and know that you didn’t have the muscle control necessary to make them move. Tony couldn’t even lift his arms to grab onto Thanos and have some control over being moved. He was entirely at Thanos’s whim as Thanos brought him in closer to his own body and settled Tony on his hip, much like someone would carry a toddler. He wasn’t sure whether to be mortified or horrified as his body flopped gracelessly onto Thanos’s shoulder, held there only by the arm that cupped his buttocks and the hand that pressed against his back.

“I know you enjoy inventing, and that your inventions make those on Midgard happy and improve the quality of their life,” Thanos murmured. His voice rumbled through his chest and into Tony’s body. “Perhaps, in time, I will allow you to tinker. A reward for good behavior, if you will.”

Tony dearly wanted to kick him. 

“In the meantime, you will grow accustomed to your life.” Thanos began walking. The world lightened around them as he moved, as though his presence was enough to chase away the darkness. 

It was then that Tony discovered he could still move his head, though not enough to jerk his head up and headbutt Thanos under the chin. His head lolled slowly from side to side, letting him examine his surroundings as he wished. The corridor that was appearing around them was long and silver, with no identifying features. There was no sign of the crib in which he’d awoken. Tony had no idea how that was even impossible.

But then, Thanos had the Reality Stone and could manipulate the fabric of existence at will. It was entirely possible that the crib had been wiped out, or moved elsewhere, at Thanos’s whim. That meant Tony couldn’t trust what he was seeing around him, either. He began to shiver as he realized that Thanos could have manipulated anything: his brain, his eyesight, his hearing. Was what he was seeing even real?

“Are you cold?” Thanos asked. The question was so disconcertingly at odds with everything that had happened that Tony couldn’t have answered even if he’d wanted to.

But Thanos didn’t seem to need a response. The hand that wore the Gauntlet moved and he froze, heart beating rapidly, ready for whatever calamity was going to befall him next. But instead, a pale blue blanket settled around his shoulders. Tony stared at it in befuddlement, barely breathing as Thanos tucked the edges of the blanket in securely. The soft material immediately felt constricting, but he lacked a way to convey that – and frankly, he doubted Thanos would care.

There had to be a way out of this, Tony thought desperately. He couldn’t let himself dwell on what Thanos might have changed without his notice. He had to keep calm. He had to focus. Thanos couldn’t keep his guard up forever. Sooner or later, there would be an opportunity to seize the Gauntlet and destroy Thanos. Then he could reverse the damage and wipe this whole horrifying scenario from his brain.

He just had to hold on.


	3. Chapter 3

Time blurred together worryingly fast. That was the biggest thing that Tony noticed. Thanos kept him confined to four rooms. There was a small kitchen, a bathroom, a nursery, and a playroom. None of them had windows, so it was impossible to tell whether it was night or day outside - or even whether there was a sun and moon to mark the passage of time. It was unlikely that they were on Earth. As Tony lay on a soft yellow blanket and stared up at the toy hanging over his head, he realized he didn't know if he'd been a prisoner for five days or five months or five years.

He thought it unlikely that it had been years, but it felt longer than days or weeks. They had a routine now. Tony was put to bed in a crib every night. He always slept regardless of whether he was sleepy or not; that had to be the Gauntlet's doing, though he would be hard-pressed to prove it. After a set amount of time, Thanos would come wake him up. He'd feed Tony breakfast and then let him play. Then Tony would nap, and when he woke up it would be lunch time. The afternoon followed a similar pattern. Then would be supper, followed by a bath and then bedtime again. It was the same thing every day.

The monotony was beginning to wear on him. Tony ached for the sun. He missed the warmth and the brightness on his face. All he wanted to do was lay out under the sun for several hours. He remembered feeling the same way after Afghanistan, and how good it had felt to walk through the dessert and turn his face up to the hot sun. In the midst of all that sand and heat, the sun had actually turned into his enemy - but Tony hadn't cared. He would've been happy to die free than live forever in the hands of his captors, and that same feeling was what drove him now. The problem was that it turned out Thanos was far more capable as a captor than the Ten Rings could've hoped to be.

He never left these four rooms, and Thanos was the only person Tony ever saw. When he was awake, Thanos was a constant presence. He was certain that Thanos left when Tony slept, but either Thanos was capable of teleportation or he created and then removed a door every time he came and went. Tony had regained a fraction more muscle control since Thanos had originally used the Reality Stone on him. He couldn't walk or crawl, but he could get around by laying on his tummy and using his feet to propel himself around on the floor. It was a slow, tedious process, but he'd managed to examine every inch of the walls. There was no door that he could discern. It was maddening how easily Thanos was able to manipulate reality with that goddamned Stone.

He rolled over onto his stomach and pressed his face into the blanket. The familiar pressure of tears built up behind his eyes, but Tony refused to cry. Sometimes he wept in his sleep, and he was always left feeling weak and pathetic when he woke in the morning and found dried tear tracks on his face. Those were usually the nights he dreamt of Pepper and Rhodey, or of flying above New York city in the Iron Man armor. He missed the armor as much as he missed the sun. He longed for the days where he could go for a flight whenever he was stressed out.

His eyes shut, he pressed a clumsy hand against his sternum. The reactor was gone as though it had never been; Thanos had healed the damage that was done to Tony's body, removing the scar tissue and leaving smooth, healthy skin in its place. He couldn't remember the last time he could take such a deep breath and not have his lungs burn. In fact, Thanos had healed him from head to toe. The scar on Tony's leg from where he'd dropped a knife? Gone. The burn scar on his right arm from when he'd been helping Jarvis cook when he was five? Gone. The scar on his side from where he'd gotten his appendix out when he was eight? Gone.

It was like Thanos had erased part of his life. All this perfect, unmarred skin wasn't Tony Stark, and it left him wondering who he even was anymore. Was he still an Avenger? Did anyone on Earth even remember him? Was there any hope of an escape ever happening? Would he spend the rest of his life in these four rooms, alone and afraid, until he forgot that Thanos was the enemy? The questions plagued him until he wanted to claw at his head just to make them stop.

"Tony?"

At the sound of the familiar voice, Tony froze and suddenly realized that he'd been digging his blunted nails into his chest. Of course, he was wearing a blue onesie so he couldn't do any damage - but from day one, Thanos had cracked down on Tony hurting himself in any way. He rolled over onto his back, looking towards the doorway to the kitchen. Thanos stood there, watching them. A chill ran down Tony's spine as he wondered how long Thanos had been there for. For such a big man, Thanos could be extraordinarily quiet when he moved.

Tony blinked at him, not bothering to respond. He still couldn't speak properly. He was capable of forming syllables if he really concentrated, but it was like his mouth couldn't remember how to string them together into words. So he preferred to remain quiet instead, communicating with gestures if necessary. Fortunately, Thanos didn't seem to mind. He always seemed to know what Tony was thinking anyway. It was entirely possible that he could read Tony's mind.

"You miss the sun," Thanos said, which only lead credence to Tony's theory about mind-reading. "I understand. When I researched humanity's history, I did discover that the sun played an important part." He stepped into the room. "You've behaved well. I'm pleased with how you're progressing. I believe you have earned a reward."

A reward? In spite of himself, a flash of interest and curiosity ran through Tony. Without thinking, he tried to sit up. His weakened core muscles couldn't support him and he flopped about uselessly instead. A rare smile crossed Thanos's face and he moved closer, big hands reaching down to pick Tony up. Tony went still, his stomach churning and face burning as Thanos slid a finger down the back of his diaper to check and see if it was soiled. Without question, this was the part he loathed the most about this twisted scenario. It turned out that when Thanos took his muscle control away, he'd also taken Tony's ability to control his bladder and bowels. Tony was fully reliant on diapers to keep from soiling himself.

It was humiliating, and made worse by the fact that Tony legitimately couldn't help it.

"You need a change," Thanos murmured, just as Tony had known and dreaded that he would. Even though he knew there was no point, he couldn't help squirming as Thanos carried him into the nursery.

The first few times this had happened, Tony had screamed himself sick. It was the only thing he _could_ do. Now, he mostly closed his eyes and tried to disassociate himself from the moment. He told himself desperately that he was in the workshop with Dummy and JARVIS, creating new plans for the armor, and did everything he could to ignore the big hands pulling apart his diaper and, by extension, his thighs. A cold wipe slipped between his legs, removing the worst of the mess. A second followed, and then a third. The workshop. Tony was in the workshop.

A sob caught in his throat as Thanos gripped his ankles and pulled his buttocks off the table to remove the soiled diaper and replace it with a clean one. At least that last indignity meant that the diaper change was nearly over; with a sprinkle of baby powder, Thanos expertly strapped the diaper into place and then picked him up again. Tony chewed his lower lip, trying to keep his breathing steady. He was not surprised when Thanos pushed a pacifier into his mouth. He'd spit them out many times before; this time, the pressure of the nipple against his tongue helped to keep him from crying.

Thanos carried him to the door of the nursery. "Time for your reward," he announced, as though Tony should be happy. The curiosity had dwindled quickly, replaced by a keen sense of dread as Tony tried to picture what Thanos would deem worthy of a reward. Some new humiliation? Was he going to parade Tony before his army? That was, perhaps, the one thing he dreaded more than anything else. At least in here, the only person who saw him this way was Thanos.

They stepped through the doorway. Tony had his eyes squeezed shut, so it took him much longer than it should've to realize that they were not in the playroom like they should've been. Very slowly, he became aware of a warm sensation on his face that hadn't been there before. Air moved against his face, drying the sweat that had beaded up on his forehead. He hadn't felt moving air for a long time. Something tickled his nose and he recoiled in surprise, opening his eyes to see that there was a pink butterfly hovering about an inch away from his face.

He stared at the butterfly, momentarily mesmerized by the beautiful colors, then looked beyond it. His eyes grew wide at the sight of the meadow they were standing in. Lush green grass grew in every direction as far as the eye could see, broken up only by crops of flowers: roses, daisies, sunflowers, tulips, and forget-me-nots, just to name a few. The sun was shining in a cloudless blue sky. Butterflies and bees flew around them, moving from flower to flower. In the distance, he could make out the sound of running water. A squirrel ran by Thanos's feet, chittering quietly.

They were _outside_. Or maybe inside and Thanos was using the Reality Stone again, Tony didn't know. What he did know was how unbelievably _amazing_ it felt to turn his face up to the sun and shut his eyes. The light was strong enough that he could see it through his eyelids. It warmed the apples of his cheeks. He barely noticed when Thanos set him down on the ground, too busy rolling over and stretching his body out so that the sun could reach as much of him as possible. If he could've, he would've stripped naked so that he could feel it everywhere.

A breeze blew, bringing the scent of flowers to him, and Tony opened his eyes. Ungracefully, he flopped over onto his belly and wiggled in the direction of the nearest patch of flowers. They were pink and yellow tulips, smelling sweet and fragrant. He put his nose up to them and inhaled deeply. They were fresh and alive and soft when he rubbed his cheek against the petals. Had he ever stopped to rub his face against some flowers before? Why not? Why hadn't he ever stopped to focus on how good grass could feel beneath his hands? 

"Tony," Thanos said, interrupting him. Tony blinked up at him, feeling almost drunk. 

"I have something else for you. A toy."

Thanos made a motion with his hand. The Iron Man armor appeared before them. Somehow, it had been fully repaired: it looked like it had just come off the line, when last time Tony had seen it, it still looked like Thanos had torn it almost to shreds. Tony's toes twitched, but he didn't move. He stared at the armor hungrily, but his eyes kept darting away whenever the breeze moved the flowers, or a chipmunk scuttled by, or a seagull flew overhead. He'd been waiting to his hands on the armor for so long - as long as he'd been desperate to get outside. He couldn't decide what to pay more attention to and the conflict made him freeze. 

"Excellent," Thanos said, his voice filled with grim satisfaction, and moved towards the armor. With every step he took, the Iron Man armor shrunk, until finally it was no bigger than the size of a house cat. Thanos plucked the armor out of the air and it changed, transforming from metal into fabric and plastic. He handed the armor to Tony, and it was now no more than a child's toy.

Tony stared down at it, breath catching in his chest. The blank, plastic eyes of the armor stared back up at him.

"I have also decided," Thanos continued, "that you are in need of a companion."

A companion? Tony lifted his head, struggling to understand. After months where everything was maddeningly routine, this was too much change all at once. He was thrown. He didn't know what to do or how to react.

"Gamora was my child. I loved her. But she is lost to me now, and there is no way for me to resurrect her," Thanos said, looking sorrowfully at the Gauntlet. "But I have decided that her sacrifice will not be in vain. There was someone she loved, and that person is not beyond my reach. And I like him. He kept his promise to my daughter. I believe he deserved better."

What? What was he talking about? Tony's heartbeat quickened and he felt sick. He flinched as the Stones on the Gauntlet began to glow with that eerie light that meant something was about to happen. At first his panic was for himself, and what else was going to be taken from him. But then, in the distance, he saw a blob of color beginning to form. It slowly elongated, gaining a human shape, and grew darker. It took on features, distorted at first, slowly morphing into something that was slightly familiar. 

"What," Peter Quill said heavily, looking around with wild eyes, "the fuck?!"

"My child," Thanos said, and closed his fist. Quill collapsed like his feet had been cut out from under him, hitting the ground with a resounding thump. He flailed around in a manner that was disturbingly familiar and then began to scream. As Thanos smiled and walked towards him with slow, smug steps, Tony shuddered and hid his face within the cloth belly of the Iron Man doll.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [tumblr](http://tsuki-chibi.tumblr.com/).


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